


A Few More Seconds Until...

by RavenDoesStufff



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insane Wilbur Soot, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Pogtopia on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Suicidal Wilbur Soot, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, Wilbur Soot-centric, that last tag is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 22:55:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30079614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenDoesStufff/pseuds/RavenDoesStufff
Summary: Wilbur knew he was a bad person. At this point everyone should see him as the bad guy. Sure, Schlatt was bad but... Wilbur had done bad things. He had his regrets. The guilt of them followed him everywhere and no matter how hard he tried to repress them they would never leave completely. Well, unless he found a way to get away from them.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	A Few More Seconds Until...

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to It's Ok I Wouldn't Remember Me Either by Crywank. So if you want the full affect listen to that I guess. 
> 
> TW: Suicide attempt, mentions of manipulation, he is simply depressed

Wilbur paced around his small bedroom in the ravine of Pogtopia. It wasn’t a nice bedroom in any way shape or form. He had roughly carved it out of the side of the ravine and hadn’t done much for decoration at all. He had his chest, his bed, and a crafting table. Everything else that he needed was in his inventory or out in the main section of Pogtopia. Just the necessities.

He wished that he could just lay down in his bed and go to sleep forever at this point. Walking out of his room was like turning on a ticking time bomb. It was only a matter of time before he came across someone like… Tommy per se. They would talk, Wilbur would try and convince him to help him blow up L’Man- no, Manburg, the conversation would end with yelling.

Don’t get him wrong, Wilbur knew he was a bad person. Whether he liked to admit it to himself or not he had brought children into war when he created L’Manburg. He had caused Tommy to get exiled with him. Hell, whether he realized it or not he had been manipulating Tommy while they were all in Pogtopia. Well, he did realize it, but he had to. Right?

Wilbur needed someone to help. Or.. or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he could abandon the idea of blowing up L’manburg in favor of a much better idea that would help a lot more people. He knew L’Manburg couldn’t exist anymore. Maybe he could tell them to rename it. Make it different. Just don’t keep it as L’Manburg because L’Manburg can’t exist. Especially not if he was ruling it. So why not take part of the equation out. What if he took himself out of the equation? That was it.

He stopped his pacing for a second, his trench coat resting against the back of his legs. He never buttoned up the front even though it was quite cold down in the ravine. Wilbur told the others that the reason was for style, but it was actually because the cold chill that ate at his bones reminded him that he was in fact alive. It gave him some feeling other than the crippling numbness that was there the rest of the time.

Quickly he shifted through his inventory, looking to see if he had any sugar cane and leather so he could craft a book. No, he didn’t. He would have to leave this room. Wilbur took in a deep breath, wiping a stray tear he hadn’t realized was on his face away with a sleeve. With that he opened his door and walked out into the main ravine.

The dim light from the lanterns flickered overhead as he walked along the empty pathway. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the chamber. They weren’t too loud, but at the same time they weren’t exactly quiet. It wasn’t right either. Wilbur wasn’t sure why it wasn’t right, but it wasn’t. There was probably something that could cure this unright… wrong.. Yes, that’s the word. There was probably something that could cure this wrong feeling, but if everything went according to plan he wouldn’t have the opportunity to feel this wrong feeling soon anyways.

It didn’t matter.

Eventually after many seconds that seemed way longer than physically possible. No, that probably wasn’t the right term for this situation. Time wasn’t physical… Way longer than humanly possible worked better for this situation. Eventually, after many seconds that seemed way longer than humanly possible he made it to the community chests where everyone put random supplies.

It didn’t take long for him to find some leather as well as some paper so he wouldn’t have to craft it himself. That was nice. Wilbur walked back to his room where he crafted the book in his crafting table. He had never really understood how they worked considering they were a mix of the physical and magical world. What else was to explain how the items you added magically bound themselves together. For once it didn’t matter if he understood it or not because it was extremely helpful nonetheless.

Once the book was bound properly Wilbur opened it up and grabbed a quill from where one lay in his chest. He dipped it in some ink and began to write:

_Hello whoever may have the misfortune of seeing this,_

_I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m missing. Well, there’s a chance you are or you just want to make sure I’m not doing something stupid. Don’t worry, I did something smart for once. My outlook wasn’t looking too bright so I decided you all would be better off without me. I have some simple requests._

_Tell Tommy I’m sorry._  
_Tell Phil this wasn’t his fault._  
_Tell Techno to stay strong even though I’m sure he won’t need this message to._  
_When you gain back Manburg change the name completely. The flag too. L’Manburg won’t last. Maybe it will do better as something else._  
_Tell Fundy that he’s always my son and I love him whether I show it or not._  
_Tell everyone else that I was glad to have them in my life (well, except Dream, Eret, Sapnap, George, Schlatt, the list goes on, but you get the main idea)._

_I wish you the best of luck when taking back Manburg._

_Sincerely,_  
_Wilbur Soot_

Wilbur signed the book, deciding to title it in the simplest way possible he knew, a random song lyric. So Can We Skip To The Good Part. It was a lyric from the chorus of the song Good Part by AJR. This was his skip to the good part. Hopefully the afterlife, if there was one, would be much better than the hellhole of a nation he had created. He placed the book on his pillow in a way that anyone who came in would probably think it was placed there deliberately.

With that, Wilbur grabbed his favorite beanie and switched it out with the one he had on now. The only difference between the two was that the old one was a dark enough shade of blue that it would be considered black while his favorite one was a true black. He walked out of his room and headed up the staircase until he was surrounded by the serenity and calm of the night air.

He took a deep breath in, the crisp night air filling his lungs with a renewed feeling. It was especially cold out tonight for whatever god forsaken reason, but he didn’t care. It made him feel alive. At least he would actually feel alive before he died.

The path up to the place he was heading was a little too familiar for Wilbur’s liking. His feet seemed to know the path even if he wasn’t looking around to make sure that he was anywhere near the right place. It was honestly a gorgeous night. Such a shame that he would be ruining it. The animals were quiet and the only wind was a slight breeze that ruffled the trees. The sky was cloudless and you could see millions of stars as well as a bright full moon.

When Wilbur emerged from the treeline the beauty of this night was really revealed to him. From under the trees it was harder to see the stars, and he couldn’t see them at all from Pogtopia. There was a time back when he was a teenager when he had a large astrology phase and just in general he was interested in the night sky. That had passed by now and he had forgotten most of it, but he could still identify some of the major ones. Orion’s belt, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor to name a few.

The wind was a bit stronger up here considering the fact that there were no trees to block the wind. Wilbur didn’t care though. Hell, he actually kind of enjoyed the cold that chilled him to the bones. If Phil were here the old man would tell him to button up his jacket so he didn’t freeze to death. It kind of made sense though considering the old man lived in the arctic for a long period of his life. Freezing to death there was actually a pretty high possibility if you weren’t safe.

Finally, Wilbur reached the top of the place that he had come to. It was a cliff not too far away from Pogtopia, but far enough away that it would take people a while to get here though. Especially if they didn’t know where they were going. Wilbur stared out at the rocks below him.

He supposed that this might look quite heroic for him to be standing here like this. He was staring out at the land below him, hands in fists while a determined expression was set on his face. The tail of his trench coat whipped around behind him as the wind picked up causing the trees that seemed so far away to shake. This was either the universe telling him not to do it or to do it. He liked the second option.

Wilbur stepped closer so that his toes were off the cliff just a tiny bit. Below were some huge rocks that had probably fallen from the cliff face when they were eroded away at some point in the past. Getting impaled by one of those would hurt like going to hell and back. Well, maybe. He would probably know what going to hell would be like after this.

It’s funny how they say that before you die your life flashes before your eyes. That seemed to be happening now, maybe it was a sign that he was going to die. Memories of when he and the rest of the sleepy bois flashed before his eyes. Memories of Sally and when Fundy first was born soon joined them. The good memories of the Drug Van. When he started L’Manburg. The election. Being exiled. Creating Pogtopia. Now he was here.

It was almost over, wasn’t it. This is how he would lose his third and final canon life. To himself. How fucking funny. Wilbur looked over the edge again. This was it. Wilbur turned around, one last time to look out at the forest behind him. This was goodbye. “Goodbye.”

Wilbur lifted his right hand up to his forehead as he saluted out to the forest. A final goodbye to everything in this world both good and evil. A way of finalizing things in a dramatic fashion. A way of… a way of stalling for time. He was hesitant, but that wouldn’t stop him. This is what he had to do.

With that thought in mind Wilbur whispered a tiny prayer for someone, anyone, to save him. After waiting about five minutes for no one to arrive he got ready. He turned around and looked at the rocks below. This was it. With that, Wilbur turned around so he was saluting towards the forest and leaned backwards.

“Wil!” Someone shouted, but Wilbur didn’t care.

Wind flew past his ears and he felt himself falling... falling... falling... crunch. Wilbur hit the rocks underneath the cliff with a sickening crunch as bones cracked. Honestly, he was surprised he was still alive at all. He was in excruciating pain, but he was still alive. Of course his attempt at dying had failed.

He maybe could have chosen a higher cliff that would have ensured that he would die on impact. He soon realized that he could no longer hear. His eyes started to flutter closed. The pain was starting to dim as he slipped closer and closer to the doors to the afterlife. He vaguely felt something be pressed into his hand, though he could have just imagined it with how out of it he was.

Only a few more seconds. Wilbur was sure of it. A few more seconds until he returned to being nothing more than dirt. A few more seconds until he passed on. A few more seconds until…

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping. I might write a sequel. I might not. I have an idea for one I just don't know if I have the motivation to write it. So, until then this is where this ends. I hope you enjoyed and stay safe everyone.


End file.
